


Cleaning the Weasel’s skin.

by Howdafloof



Category: The Simpsons
Genre: Animatronics, High/Low cleancore aesthetic, Housewife life turned crazy, Marge Clean’s a lot, dark and spooky pizzerias, graphic descriptions of cleaning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-08-23 14:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20244352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Howdafloof/pseuds/Howdafloof
Summary: After Homer messes up the Simpson’s already delicate financial situation for the nth time, Marge is forced to take on a cleaning job at Wall-e-Weasels Pizzaria to cover some impending costs.She encounters a stroke of luck when her boss offers her some extra money doing contracted work within the facility aside from her normal evening clean.Things seem too good to be true-If only she could get that animatronic Weasel out of her brain...





	1. Debts to pay.

**Author's Note:**

> Didn’t expect this did you?
> 
> It’s actually been on my iPad for well over a year in a dormant state, I’m doing my best to finish it as we speak.
> 
> But yes, a Simpsons doc-one of the rarest types of fics out there.
> 
> Leave a review if you do want me to keep going on this as I’m not quite sure where it’s headed at the current moment.

The smell of freshly cooked toast, alongside strong coffee permeated around the Simpsons kitchen, a gentle breeze from a barely cracked window spread the homely smell around the house. The pleasant aroma and comfortable breeze would be enough to put anyone in a good mood.

“750 dollars!?”

Until some bad news was delivered, shattering the nice atmosphere.

As the Costington’s bill hit the table with a resonating ‘thwack’ the family looked up at the housewife, who now stood with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. Following the females gaze immediately revealed it was her husband who’s name footed the bill.

The man in question had his lips wrapped around the rim of his coffee mug, now seemingly frozen in the pose as he awkwardly met his wife’s gaze.

Both children had their spoons held limply above their cereal bowls as they watched the soon to be argument unfold.

Maggie sat in her high chair, continuing to eat her toast, blissfully ignorant to the world around her.

“Homer. What in the world is a ‘Looks like me doll’ and WHY did you pay $750 for one!?” Marge asked, continuing to glare at her husband.

Finally breaking out of his static pose, Homer lowered the mug slightly before speaking in an irritatingly casual way. “Oh-yeh, forgot to tell you Marge-I saw this ad on the internet at work the other day-Costingtons have started making these custom dolls that look just. Like. You!” He started, splaying his fingers in an attempt to awe his wife at the dolls. Marge’s glare only deepened.

“And WHY do you need a doll that looks like you?” The female asked.

“Costingtons said people who had a personalised doll were far more likely to have an increase is self confidence and become more successful-” Before he could even finish Marge had thrown her hands into the air, a strangled cry of anger escaping her throat.

“Self confidence!? Why don’t you just look into mirror!?” She snapped, gesturing towards the hall leading towards the garage where the edge of a full body mirror could be seen.

“But I cant see my ass when I look in the mirror” Homer protested weakly.

“How? it’s hard to miss-”

“Bart!-Homer we needed that money-that doll is going back!” Marge spoke sharply, jabbing a finger to the table in finality.

“Mom I don’t think that’s possible, unless it has a flaw there’s no way you can send any custom made item back.” Lisa spoke him, looking deeply concerned.

“She’s right Marge, plus I kind of signed a paper saying it was fine before I took it” Homer added slightly sheepishly.

Marge’s irritation turned into anger and the female clutched her head, a dangerous growl leaving her throat before she slammed her hands on the table and glared at her husband.

“Homer. We. Need. That. Money!” She spoke lowly while trying to silently gesture to the kids as the man continued to stare blankly at her. Homer blinked dumbly several times before a look of realisation dawned on him.

“Oh kamp kr-uumph!” His sentence was promptly cut off when Marge slammed a hand over his mouth but it was too late.

“Kamp Krusty!? Dad spent money on getting us out of here on a doll-what the hell Homer!?”

“Bart!”

“He’s right Mom! You’re always saying you want more alone time and Kamp Krusty works for all of us-”

“I KNOW!” The housewife almost howled, ripping her hand off Homers mouth to slam both on the table-silencing the kitchen.

“Kids you are GOING to Kamp Krusty, your father’s going to get the money, even if it means he has to cut back on some spending of his own-now finish your breakfast and get ready for school!” Marge snapped before turning back to the kitchen counter and furiously starting on the kids lunches.

The moment the door shut behind the children, Homer was in front of his wife, hands clasped in a begging gesture

“Oh cmon Marge-there has to be other ways to get the money, I need Moe’s like you need your hair dye.”

Marge went rigid and Homer realised for the second time that morning he had misspoken.

“When you go without beer you save money and loose weight-when I don’t dye my hair-I get mistaken for a WITCH!” Marge finished, turning and jabbing the man in the chest.

“Homer. You are getting that money back, Helen lovejoy is sending her kid and knows I’m sending mine-if she finds out I couldn’t afford to send Bart and Lisa-you’re sleeping on the couch till she forgets!” Marge barked before slamming his lunch box into his arms and stomping towards the front door.

“Get to work Homer and don’t even think about skipping!” 

Said man quickly left, Marge slamming the door behind him. Only once she heard his car pull away did she allow herself to fall against the door, messaging her temples in worry.

It wasn’t just Kamp Krusty that was at stake. Both her and Homers vehicles needed to be taxed and serviced in 2 weeks and she was sure the deadline for Kamp Krusty payments arrived at the end of the month.

Homer got himself into a lot of tricky situations, but she had faith he would pull through, he always did.

Sudden images of IOU’s, the mafia and Homer’s other failed attempts at money-making schemes flashed through her head and she found herself practically sprinting for the newspaper, specifically the job section.

“Toy stuffer-oooh That sounds fun! Oh. ‘Must have minimum of 3 years stuffing experience’, well ok...”

Marge’s hunt for a job was not going well, with only a high school diploma and a few courses under her belt, she needed something more in her field. Her answer came at the bottom of the jobs section, a small black and white picture of the restaurant ‘Wall e weasels’ was framed above a basic job description.

Marge hummed, she remembered visiting the pizzeria for bart’s birthday.

The beavers tail had caught fire...

Deciding to investigate the current state of wall e weasels she headed to the dining room, pulling her laptop out of the counter draws. Setting herself up at the kitchen table, she looked for a website of the location, hoping to gain some extra information before she made a decision that would make her look no better then Homer. A link soon popped up and Marge winced at the clear lack of a graphics designer for the site.

The cursor even trailed stars...

Trying not to get lost in the 2004 nostalgia, the female managed to navigate to an ‘about’ section that detailed the restaurant, its use in parties and events, menu and attractions. As expected, the animatronic band was listed as an attraction and there was even a video. Giving an approving hum that turned into a wince as the 144p footage started playing. Marge watched the poorly edited video, cringing as the cameraman actually tripped over a bottle, turning the camera to the said bottle which was kicked straight into the band. 

2 minutes later Marge was wondering why they had bothered to keep the footage of senior bevatties tail being broken off by the flying bottle, before bursting into flames. Either way it was clear wall e weasels was in no better condition then before, if anything it was probably on a downward trend like most of the places in Springfield. Marge was about to simply close the badly made web page when Homers bill, still thrown down on the table caught her eye. With a weary sigh Marge returned her attention to the job article realising she had barely glanced at the occupation itself.

“Wanted: cleaner-some experience required. Jobs include everyday cleaning with hours viable to change on a day to day basis?$10\hr” Marge hummed thoughtfully, it seemed no different from your run of the mill cleaning job.

Looking at the bottom of the article, she realised her finger had been covering a footnote and quickly read the asterisked sentence.

“Further contracts within the company available and are offered to employees with exceptional work ethic, overtime alongside night hours are paid when applicable. Non disclosure agreements may be necessary”

Marge let out a much happier hum, if she could grab a few hours of night cleaning on a Sunday...  
“This seems like an ok deal Maggie” the housewife spoke to her youngest daughter who was still perched in her high chair, slowly eating the last of her food.

“In fact...it seems kind of weird...” as she thought the offer over in her head it became apparent that though there was a number of contract jobs available, including highly confidential ones.

But why offer them on an ad for a cleaner?

“Well, I guess there’s only one way to find out, looks like it’s off to aunt patty and Selma’s for you Maggie” Marge finished with a glance at the baby who looked extremely uncomfortable at the prospect.

“Don’t worry I’m packing you a lunch-non of your aunts tongue sandwiches” the housewife finished with a grimace.


	2. I spy-a new job.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marge goes to Wall E. Weasel’s in an attempt to covertly scope out the place.
> 
> She almost instantly fails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter for y’all! enjoy!
> 
> *edit* you would not believe the bs I had to go through to edit this in archives formatting. Ugh. Anyway, done now.

After dropping Maggie at her sister’s Marge began her drive towards the outskirts of Springfield harbour where the Pizzeria was located. As she drove, the housewife wondered how to approach the situation. Should she straight up ask about the job? Should she play it cool and simply say she was doing some recon for a birthday party? In the end she decided to say she had heard that the company was hiring and start from the ground up, ensuring what she told matched up with the newspaper article.

A sudden rush filled her and she became convinced she had to act like a spy for the duration of her time at the pizzeria.

_Don’t park too close, or too far away._  
Remember your alibi  
Don’t order milky drinks.  
Trust no one.  
Walk like a normal person.

Clearly Marge was a master spy in the making...

Upon entering the red doors, Marge was hit with the scent of stale air, sweat and cheese pizza. The loud sound of arcade machines could be heard the other side of the room, overpowering the upbeat music that was emanating quietly from the ceiling speakers.

The room itself consisted mainly of a dining area, with park bench tables lined before the main stage that held a backwards turned Wall e weasel with a curtain hiding the rest of the band.

On the left side of the band closest to the entrance was a claw game beside the doors to restrooms. On the other side a man wearing a full body Wall e weasel getup holding a freshly cooked pizza exited a door signalling it was the kitchens. A little past the kitchen doors was a small but deep ball pit, protected by plastic sides, a sudden memory of someone telling her they saw a rat in said pit made Marge cringe. She had dropped Maggie off in that same pit on Barts birthday. Three columns of benches extended from a couple of meters off the main stage, however to the right of the stage there was a column of several booths with relatively tall backs for a more private dining experience. Unfortunately the hideously noisy arcade room sat through an archway right next to the booths, meaning there was no chance a conversation could be had. Coloured patches of light moving around the room suddenly became apparent to Marge and she looked up to see a rotating disco light on the ceiling. Since it was daytime the coloured light wasn’t very visible but the housewife had a feeling it would get annoying quickly. Toward the back of the room was a corridor off to the left where a staff room and management rooms were located.

“Huh, not much has changed” Marge murmured as she walked toward the stage, stopping when the clicking of her heels on tile turned into soft thuds.

“Oh, carpet? That can’t bode well for spills...” the housewife hummed, glancing over the black carpet, matching the tiles and extending from the stage to several benches back.

“Can I help you?”

Marge was startled and whirled around to face another Wall e weasel mascot staring her down, the weasel faced headpiece giving the costume a total of over 7ft in height.

The sheer size and bulk of the character made Marge freeze up for a moment as she tried to remember her game-plan.

“Oh I-er...”

_Ok Marge, it’s battle time-don’t give away your intentions, just hold your ground with some questions about job positions and-_

“Oh you’re here about the cleaning position?

_Son of a-_

Several minutes later she was sitting at the rather cramped desk of James Weezel, manager of the children’s restaurant. Paperwork covered the office alongside stray wires, coffee cups and debris, the window seemingly hadn’t been cleaned for a good several years and the fluorescent tube flickered ominously. The room held the smell of cigarettes and caffeinated drinks, Marge was half hoping her first cleaning assignment would be the office, just to calm her currently screaming OCD.

James had been typing on his computer since she had been shown into the room and had yet to give any sort of eye contact or greeting to the housewife, making her nervous. James himself was a relatively stocky man with slightly styled mop of brown hair, sharp facial features and half lidded cold blue eyes, making him seem indifferent to his dull surroundings.

Finally with a click of the mouse James turned to her, expression still stoic. After a silent couple of seconds Marge realised she was going to have to start the conversation.

“Hello, I’m er, here about the cleaning job.” She said, clasping her hands in front of her. A hum of acknowledgement accompanied by a small nod where the only indicators he gave before returning to the computer, several seconds later the printer began pushing out a document.

“I only came to look around today, it’s been a while since I’ve come here so I’m not planning on-”

“Read this”

He cut her off by plucking the printed sheet up and practically shoving it in her face. Marge blinked in shock before taking the paper and reading through it.

The document outlined the basic requirements for the job, experience in cleaning, the ability to deal with a range of situations within the pizzeria (poop, vomit etc) and a knowledge of cleaning products and how to use them.

“Um yes, I can do that-”

“Sign this”

Marge was stopped mid sentence again as James popped another sheet in front of her, giving the basic outlines of her job with the addition of some terms and conditions and a signature box.

“Wait wait wait! I just came to ask ABOUT the job, I’m not really ready to throw myself into a career just yet” she said bashfully.

James shrugged.

“First come first serve, but it’s your choice” he replied, Marge noting it was the first full sentence he had spoken. Sighing she clasped her hands tighter.

“Mr Weezul, I-”

The sound of her phone going off had her face heating up and she gaped in embarrassment.

“I-I am so sorry-I’ll just-”

“I can wait”

Squashing the thought of how the man would survive in any other social environment, Marge exited the room and pulled out her phone, Homer’s name appearing.

“Homer, I’m kind of busy right now”

“Marge it’s important! I called up the Kamp Krusty hotline to see how I could help-”

In an instance, Homer’s thoughtfulness had replaced any anger she had held at him.

‘_He is trying to make amends, I knew he would’_ she mentally gushed, pride and love filling her.

“The payment deadline for kids going this year is the end of next week!”

Her happiness turned straight into cold dread.

“WHAT!? But your pay check doesn’t go in until the end of the month!”

“I know, and neither does overtime!”

“Homer we NEED $750 in two weeks, look I’m trying to get a part time job at Wall e weasels-“  
As marge’s internal panic began to build, she glanced to her left where a framed poster for the company sat on the wall, the protective glass pain reflecting her worried face.

And someone else’s.

_Oh no oh no oh-_

Marge’s mouth went dry as she realised in her hurry to get to the phone she had left James’ door open. In the reflection she could quietly clearly see him staring at the back of her head, his own head tilted in a calculating way.

He’s heard everything! There’s no way I’m going to get to this job now!

“Homer I’ll call you back” she managed to get out, shutting off the call immediately.

Turning around, James was once more glued to his screen, looking no more interested then before. Taking a breath, Marge walked quietly back into the room, closing the door behind her.

“Um sorry for leaving the door open, it was kind of important and I didn’t realise...” the housewife started, half hoping he would interrupt her to ease the awkwardness crawling over her skin.

The manager turned back to her, his blue eyes as disinterested as ever, but there was definitely a glint of something there.

“No matter, as I’m sure you recall the job description did mention other contracted jobs?”

“Yes, the footnote” the female nodded back, mentally preparing to be offered some bogus job she was expected to take out of desperation.

“Sort of an add-on to help an employee who might need some extra income, as it stands none of our previous janitors or-excuse the term- ‘wage slaves’ have shown the skills capable of executing these jobs. However the offer is still open and after several years of not being done, these contracts really need to be taken.”

Marge cocked her head slightly “What sort of extra skills are needed for these jobs?” She asked, a slight unease beginning to settle in her stomach to add to the anxiety.

“You appear capable of several already” he replied simply.

The female blinked.

“Oh, um how?”

“Your dress is washed and ironed” he replied, gesturing to her green dress which was still relatively neat and absolutely spotless.  
“...no employee here can use a washing machine or iron ?” Marge asked looking almost insulted by the thought.

“The mascot who greeted you when you came in? That thing hasn’t been washed for 2 weeks, we have to send it to the dry cleaners and that isn’t cheap.”

“Well, a mascot head is a little different then a dress...”

“Indeed-but as said these jobs range through a lot of different things some are simple like cleaning the sign and washing the windows, however some I can’t even talk to you about until you make a definite decision to take the job.” James summarised, tapping the paper she needed to sign.

“I would be capable of doing them you think?” Marge asked, the espionage feeling she had botched on the way into the restaurant returning and beginning to excite her a bit.

“Simple but private tasks, company property stuff, **well paying stuff**.”

_There it is._

For a couple of seconds Marge mulled through the decision, still unsure if this would backfire on her immensely.

Then again what other choice did she have? Keep looking at possibly end up with a worse deal?  
With a deep sigh she signed her name.

“Let me show you around”

Upon getting up, Marge realised James was surprisingly tall, putting several inches on Homers 6ft. He walked extremely straight for how he seemed to hunch over his computer minutes before.

Ignoring her queries on her new bosses habits she followed him out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to drop some words.


	3. Around the Weasel’s Cave.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marge gets shown around, details the family about her new job, gets laughed at for mistaking a word then does her job.
> 
> Everything seems fine until she’s nearly done...

“...this is the kitchens, they clean up after themselves, should you ever have to clean inside, something has gone badly wrong”

Marge let out a murmur of acknowledgement as she looked around the white tiled room with silver metal appliances, 3 men and 2 women of varying age and appearance were preparing food silently. They seemed have very little enthusiasm for their work, the octopus shaped pizzas were being cut crudely and missing a few arms on several plates

_“...This is the arcade, try not to spend too much time here!”_

_“The WHAT?!”_

_“THE ARCADE-ITS LOUD, KEEP YOUR VISITS INFREQUENT IF YOU VALUE YOUR HEARING!”_ James practically yelled, still managing to sound utterly bored.

Marge nodded, barely able to hear anything over the gameswhich beeped, blooped and let out an ...of other sounds at a volume that made Marge’s ears ring. Oddly enough stepping through the archway that separated the game room from the dining area seemed to lessen the noise significantly.

“And here is our pride and joy, the Wall e weasel theatre”

The dining area was relatively empty, it was school hours and any kids seemed to have gone to the arcade area, only a few mothers with baby’s. Glancing at the stage revealed the figure of Wall e weasel was still present and still had his back to them.

“So how often does Wall e do his shows?”

“Around every half an hour, however we tend to trigger them manually if we feel it’s necessary or it’s a special event.”

Marge nodded, gazing at the weasels back. The silent animatronic seemed...different, despite not even seeing the front-something just seemed off about it...

She had barely glanced at the thing during Bart’s birthday party, being halfway across the room when Senior Bevaratti’s tail caught in fire, but upfront and with no distractions something seemed wro-

“...so I’ll see you tonight 7pm, wear whatever, I’ll walk you through everything else then.” Marge had been so preoccupied with trying to figure out the animatronic she barely caught James’s last words.

“Oh yes-7pm on the dot, maybe a little earlier?”

“Sure, But you don’t get paid earlier then 7” James shrugged before turning and wondering back to his office.

Marge just let out a disapproving murmur, wondering if she should stick around to see the rest of the band make their appearance to sooth whatever was worrying her about the anthropomorphic Weasel.

Then she remembered she had left Maggie at her sisters and decided to relieve her poor child.

She loved her sisters but they didn’t have a single maternal instinct between them.

“Wall e weasels? Where the hell is that?”

“Bart had his birthday party there Homer, the place with the animatronics, octopus shaped pizza?” Marge tried to tell him as she took his now empty plate, adding it to the pile of others to go into the dishwasher.

“Oh yes! Who could forget senior Beveratti and his magnificent flaming tail” her husband chuckled.

“I don’t think that was part of the show, probably should have asked about that-hmmm” the housewife turned cleaner murmured disapprovingly as she began rinsing the plates.

“How is that show not a massive fire hazard waiting to happen?” Lisa interjected looking worried.

“Who cares? With mom working at Wall e weasels we got access to all the tickets we need-unlimited wack-a-weasel here I come!”

“I’m just a cleaner sweetie, I don’t get privileges like that, and that game room can reach dangerous volumes I don’t like you spending time there” Marge replied as she loaded the dishwasher.

“Awww-”

“Mom you mentioned about additional contracts within the role, doesn’t that seem a little odd to you?” Lisa asked

Nodding, Marge set the machine going before turning to her oldest daughter.

“In all honesty honey: it does, but if I don’t take every opportunity I can to earn money, you kids aren’t going to Kamp Krusty”

“I thought dad was going to get back the money?” Bart asked suspiciously.

“Your father is doing his part-_right_ Homer?” The female turned to her husband, double checking her order from that morning was still in motion.

“Err sure..what was-”

“Not going to Moe’s-right?” Marge answered, a little more forcefully then necessary.

“Oh he’s right! Of course honey, no Moe’s for a couple of days-”

“2 weeks Homer, once that cheque goes in I’ll allow one free utterly wasted pick up ride at 2 am, but until then, no Moe’s!” She said sternly before stopping and turning back, ignoring Homer’s overdramatic groan. Another thought suddenly occurred as she pulled off the washing up gloves and she turned back to her husband.

“By the way where is this ‘doll’ I’m surprised I haven’t bumped into it yet” she started, Bart snorting clearly about to execute some quip that would send Homer into a rage.

“It’s under the bed Marge, surprised you haven’t noticed his ‘girth’ through the mattress” Homer winked at her, the female narrowing her eyes at what she thought he was implying.

“Homer if that doll has a massive you-know-what I will not be-”

“Stomach mom! Girth means stomach!” Lisa interjected with embarrassed horror as Bart howled with laughter.

“Oh, um-Well it’s half past 6, I better get ready for my shift...”

The drive to Wall e weasels was both anxiety inducing, yet relaxing.

She felt relaxed due to the non sad Vaporwave that was playing, but anxiety filled her to think about what she would find when she got there. Cheese on the walls? an accident in the ball pit?

“Come on Marge, you can do this-you clear up after children literally all the time, Bart’s practically all the disaster cleaning practise you’ll ever need.”

The sight of the pizzerias massive mascot coming into view made her accelerate harder and she continued towards her new job.

The parking lot to the right of the establishment was practically deserted, only two cars remained, one starting up just as she swung into a space. Her guess was that it was just her and James left. Getting out the car she looked up at the faded chipping statue of Wall e weasel, wondering if his arm would ever move again, or if the whole thing would just be taken down.

The setting sun cast a glow against the back of the statue, however the front was dark in contrast, the dull white eyes staring aimlessly ahead, and that mocking smile-

“Evening Marge”

“Aargh!”

“I’ll explain your duties to you inside” James continued without faltering before he returned inside.

“Ok..thank you” Marge gasped while trying to collect herself.

Upon entering the building, the new cleaner was unnerved by just how eerily quiet it was with no arcade machines or music on. Only the low hum of electricity resonated near silently through the building as ambient sound.

Moving further in front of the stage revealed the animatronic weasel in the same position she had seen him earlier, suspender clad back facing her, head dipped enough for it to be hidden by the rest of the body. A microphone was clutched in one hand while the other was hanging limply at his side. The lighting for the stage was completely extinguished, leaving the weasel half shrouded in darkness while the cold diner lights cast a cool glow on one side.

Pulling her gaze off the stage she saw the spinning disco light was also off, merely a black orb with dark coloured glass dotted on it.

The state of the pizzeria itself wasn't bad, seeing only a few crumbs and a couple of spills across the tables and the same with the floor. Unfortunately there appeared to be a few barely visible darker patches on the carpet, signalling spills on it as well.

“Nothing too bad today” James’s voice resonated through the area as the man himself exited from the kitchens and strode toward her.

“Wipe the tables, soak up any spills on the carpet then vac it and mop the floor” the manager spoke, gesturing to each job.

“Give the arcade machines a wipe down and clean the toilets” He continued before turning to walk away, however he suddenly stopped and turned back.

“Oh, Marge there is one unspoken rule that you need to know.” He started, Marge fixating all her attention on him.

“Don’t touch the animatronics, they are both extremely delicate and prone to hazardous malfunction as you will have no doubt seen at your sons birthday party. Don’t even clean the stage, never worry if Wall e has a face full of pizza dripping off him, just leave them alone, professional guys sort that out” he said, a serious edge to his voice.

Marge wasn’t sure whether to be more shocked at the nature of the rule or that James had actually shown some genuine emotion for once.

Was serious an emotion?

Either way she nodded her head in agreement.

“Of course Mr Weezul, I understand completely, I’m suprised the beaver is still working to be honest-“

“Senior beaveratti is working well enough thanks to the miracle of duct tape, now I’ll leave you to it. Find me if you have any problems...or don’t, whatever you know where all the stuff is”

Marge frowned as the man stalked off once more before turning back to the stage.

“Yep, not touching you anytime soon” she muttered at the animatronics back and getting nothing in response.

Deciding to start with the toilets, Marge merely followed her home routine of getting what she needed into the men’s toilets and going from there. She flushed the loosto clear any residuals out of the bowl before bleaching under the rims and moving onto the sinks. The sinks were past there prime but Marge made a solid effort to get them looking as best she could. She wiped and buffed the tiles above them, the hand dryers and the soap dispensers to try and shine them up. The next part was to wipe down the stall walls and start cleaning the loos, the bowl and under the rim then wipe down the frame. After that is was just sweeping then mopping the floor. Rinse and repeat for the girls stall.

Moving into the arcade room she dusted and wiped the machines where she could before sweeping and mopping the floor up to the arch into the main diner.

From there it was a case of wiping the tables, sweeping and mopping the floor.

Then came the carpet.

The first and foremost important issues was dealing with any spills upon the surface. As such Marge grabbed a role of paper towels and began blotting each puddle, pulling up as much liquid as she could. It took nearly 15 minutes of pressing a multitude of paper towels to the carpet but finally the area was free to be vacuumed.

Getting up from spending so much time on her knees, Marge could feel an ache in her neck. Pulling her gloved arms over her head she tilted her head and neck up as high as she could before looking back down. However as she looked down, something in front of her caught her eye.

Had she not had such a knack for simple details she would never have noticed.

A certain purple animatronic had moved his head.


	4. Dreams of purple.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marge completes her first shift with a...minor strange occurrence.
> 
> She is awarded the T’s and C’s for contract work meaning: quick cash!
> 
> Though as she reads through them things get a little strange.

Wall e weasel had been slouched over when she started the job, head lowered to a position where no features where viewable unless you looked from a far side of the stage.

However now the head was raised and turned enough to see part of the face.

Upon realisation of the change, Marge froze, hands still above her head as she stared into the dull white eye with a single black pupil and the upper half of that mocking smile-

“GAH!”

Through her confusion and shock, she had failed to notice something dripping down her arm, however once a wetness creeping toward her armpit became apparent, she realised she was still holding the paper towels used to blot up the disgusting water. Horrified Marge dropped the sodden towel before grabbing some clean towel and using it quickly dry her exposed skin, making a mental note that next time she would wear something a little more covering then her standard housecleaning gear.

“Everything alright?”

Marge whirled around as James popped his head around the corner leading to the offices, he seemed to have once again felt some actual worry. Maybe she was having a good effect on him.

Or maybe he was just worried about something falling on her and getting sued.

Probably the latter.

“Oh yes I’m fine, just a little accident with some dirty water. I’m nearly done, ill just finish vacuuming and be out of your hair” she awkwardly replied with a breathy laugh. James raised a brow and she swore she saw him glance past her to the stage before withdrawing back around the corner entirely.

Turning back around, Wall e was still in his slightly different position, surely James had noticed it. Maybe it was just a normal thing? Something to do with the animatronic being shut off.

Not wanting her thoughts to creep her out, Marge went off to get the vacuum cleaner, refusing to look at the stage for the rest of the night.

It had just gone half 9 when Marge finished packing up, she closed the door to the utilities closet and went back to the main hall to grab her handbag, however upon rounding the corner was extremely surprised to see James standing in front of the stage, arms crossed over his chest and looking up at the single animatronic with his usual dull stare.

“Good job” he started, seemingly sensing she was looking at him. Deciding not to ask, Marge quickly joined him, finally working up the courage to glance up at the stage and swallowing upon seeing Wall e still half staring back down at them.

“Everything looks good and in less time then the previous cleaner, you’ve definitely proved yourself worthy of this” he said, turning and handing her a brown folder with the word ‘contracts’ stamped on it.

“This contains the terms and agreements for accepting contracts for the Wall e weasels establishment, including that you are only allowed to accept contracts from this establishment while employed here unless a different agreement is reached” the man continued stoically.

Marge clasped her hands together and smiled brightly.

“Thank you Mr Weezul, I’ll read them tonight” she answered, feeling something was finally going her way. Sure it was more paperwork to read but by tomorrow she could be earning extra money, enough to get them out of this situation if she was lucky.

James nodded.

“I’ll leave this with you, you can sign the agreement as early as you want starting tomorrow” he said before getting out his keys to lock up. Marge took this as a cue to collect her stuff and exit, glancing back at the stage as she did.

Creepy.

Finally at quarter to 10 she was pulling out of the parking lot and driving off home in the last remnants of the sun set, equating to near total darkness.

As much as Marge didn’t want to admit it, the mix of working under pressure and having to adapt to a brand new job in less then a day had fatigued her quite a bit. She was ready to drop straight into bed, but at the same time, she knew getting through the T’s and C’s of her contract work would bode well to earning more income ASAP.

Reversing into the drive for a quick exit tomorrow, the female practically staggered into the house, being hounded by her husband and kids almost instantly.

“How was it?”

“Did any thing weird happen?”

“Did you find the secret pizza recipe?”

“Did you swipe me some tickets?”

Marge groaned, collapsing onto the sitting room couch before answering.

“It was fine, no, no and NO” she answered in order.

“Look, I’m going to bed, I have to read a whole stack of paperwork tomorrow morning” she stated before dragging herself upstairs.

Sleep found her easily.

“Hello?”

Marge walked through the front door of Wall e weasels, confused as to why it was so empty.

All the lights were off, letting only the morning sunlight filter through the patterned glass, coating parts of the room in a dim red and white glow, while leaving others basked in shadow. As she continued to walk, Marge realised all the benches and tables were missing, leaving the carpeted area completely exposed. Well...maybe she could give the whole carpet a proper vac now that nothing was in the way, the pizzarea seemed to be closed so why n-

A small creak from behind her had her spinning around to face the stage.

As per yesterday, Wall e wasthe only animatronic on stage, facing away from her.

However something was very very wrong, the robot looked...bulkier, failing to look like a barely fitting skin on a metal frame and more like an actual living being, purple fur more glossy and realistic.

Then she realised the most obvious and terrifying thing about the scene.

Wall e weasel was standing on the stage.

Normally the animatronic was held half a foot or so in the air by a pole, allowing him to spin around, however the weasel was standing by his own power.

Marge’s anxiety skyrocketed and she slowly stepped back until she felt the wall turn into a corner leading to the managers office.

Only once the stage was out of sight did she turn around to see if James was about.

The sound of a microphone hitting the floor with a screech of feedback made her jump and she cautiously looked back around the corner.

Wall e was gone, only his microphone remained, slowing from its roll across the stage.

Fast repetitive thuds getting closer behind her had Marge whirling around-

Just in time to see Wall e jump out of his sprint and lunge at her, soft paws now containing sharp claws, teeth looking like razors in the dim light-

Marge awoke with a deep gasp, clasping a sweaty hand against her chest as she heaved for breath. Beside her she felt Homer sit up.

“Sorry for..waking...you Homey I just...got a bit of nightmare...” she managed to rasp out as she tried to slow her breathing.

Several seconds later she realised Homer hadn’t replied.

“Homer?” She asked, turning to face him.

Only to be met with permanent smile and ping pong ball sized eyes of Wall e weasel.

Marge shot up, scrambling out of bed and throwing herself against the cupboards, heaving for breath. It took her a good 10 seconds to realise she had just had two simultaneous nightmares and even longer to pull herself off the cupboards.Her sweat covered skin sliding off the varnished wood with a gross squeaking sound. Staggering into the bathroom Marge sat on the closed toilet lid and rubbed her eyes.

Finally looking up at a small digital clock sitting on the medicine cabinet revealed the time to be 5:30 in the morning.

With a groan she pulled her hands away from her face and balled them into fists.

“It’s just a stupid animatronic Marge, doesn’t even look scary for gods sake!” She snapped, furious for causing herself such stress over a pizzeria mascot of all things. With another sigh she got up and took a shower.

Breakfast was made in a bit of a daze. Marge was full of energy, but she couldn’t seem to concentrate very well. She struggled to remember which cereal bart had, who sat where, what she had done with her cooking utensils...

It felt like a challenge trying to get through the morning, she nearly forgot to make lunches and ended up throwing together 3 rather unimpressive looking meals alongside attempting to half arse any conversation about her new job with neutral comments, annoying the rest of the family.

It was only when Homer was out the door that she remembered the contract agreement and swore internally.

The docket had been left on the top of the fridge, out of the way. Upon opening the envelope the smell of freshly printed paper hit her and despite the pressure mounting on her, Marge liked that smell.

The sound of rustling paper with the smell of ink helped her concentrate as she read the several pages of rules. Overall things seemed pretty basic, however there were several things that did catch her attention.

“Any staff members, regardless of position are forbidden from speaking about any situations that occur with the animatronics, unless questioned by the police. Should an employee have to give a statement, contacting the manger before doing so will be rewarded heavily” Marge read the paragraph for the third time, trying to understand just what it was saying.

Was it really bribing her into giving a false statement?

Before she could fall into a moral dilemma, another sentence caught her eye.

“Should a staff member find an incident occurred during the night they are to contact the manager for further advice. The pizzeria is not to be opened until the situation is resolved and the carpets and floors have been deep cleaned.” Marge finished, feeling something uneasy in her gut at the mention of deep cleaning.

Looking down further she realised there was an asterisked sentence under the rule she had just read.

_“Incidents may include:damage of property, equipment and staff.”_

Marge could not help the heavy swallow that sounded through the kitchen.

“...is there a problem Marge?”

The housewife flinched ever so slightly as she looked up into James’ face before glancing back down at the agreement form for the contracts. A pen held in her hand currently hovered over the dotted line ready to take her signature.

“No...just thinking.” she replied, still staring at the paper.

“...If you want the extra money you have to-”

Marge bit down a frustrated grunt before all but slamming the pen on the paper and writing her name with enough force that it made a visible dent on the sheet. She proceeded to practically throw the agreement form at the man who took the document without hesitation, placing it in front of him before leaning back in his chair and focusing on her.

“Thank you. Now, though you can choose what added work you do, There is one I would like to point you towards-before I do, I also need to ask: have you had your shots?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed, stay tuned for more.


End file.
